Madame Governess
by The Pixess
Summary: Sometimes, she really wished she was heartless.


**Disclaimer: -condenses like a 38 page in-depth unfinished character psychology/romance fic into this short little drabble like thing- LET NO ONE SAY I DON'T RECYCLE!**

The governor's mansion had an eerie, almost lonely feel towards it. She shivered in her chair, feeling engulfed by the darkness of the manor's walls; and to think, all this was actually _hers_! Even after two years time, the thought was still incomprehensible. She wasn't ready for this, it hadn't been her choice- but that still didn't make up for the fact that she was doing a rather poor job in her position, if she was honest with herself.

She pushed the thought out of her mind, not in the mood to be reasonable. Drumming her fingers anxiously on the office desk, she happened to catch sight of her reflection in the mirror. She looked ghostly pale, face drawn and brown eyes wide, looking twitchy as a Cat's tail.

_Stop it_, she commanded herself, _you mustn't let him see you this way, no matter what else you do. _No matter what horrific acts she may or may not commit, she would never, _never_ let him catch on to them. He had stood by her in spite of her overwhelming wickedness, turned a blind-eye towards it, and she could never bear to rob him of his naiveté, no matter what other cruel acts she might commit.

She bit her lip; this was wrong and she knew it- yet she somehow couldn't bring herself to stop it. There was some thrill, some addicting rush of it, defying her father out of spite for getting her into the mess, the power- _yes, that_'_s it_, she realized belatedly_. I've gone power mad_.

The thought was thoroughly disconcerting; she saw her image in the glass flush and pulled a stack of amendments and decrees towards her, trying to keep herself distracted. She needed to calm down, he had the day off tomorrow and with her blessing would leave the premises this evening to get a head start on the merriment. With any luck, he'd go to a pub and wind up beside some other girl and forget all about her; as much as it would kill her, he deserved as much. She'd never deserve someone as good as him.

Reading kept her attention for awhile, but as she pursued the files she couldn't keep the notion from striking her that this too was wrong, she shouldn't be looking over matters of politics, shouldn't have anything to _do_ with politicans! Never, it simply wasn't in her nature, no matter how fine her blood was, patrician family be d-

"Madame Governess?"

She started; she'd been so enraptured with her own thoughts she hadn't heard the chambermaid, Desiree, enter the office. Not only that, but that horrible title never ceased to plague her- _Madame. _"Madame"s were always _old_, with brisk accents and a cold manner. She hated being associated with the word. And _must_ she be labeled as nothing more than a governess? Couldn't she have an identity of her own in her title, some individuality, just a _hint_ of personality in a name instead of just a stereotype?

After curtsying politely, Desiree informed her that he was waiting outside the door to wish her goodbye, and asked if she would permit him entry. This of course was just a formality- there was no reason the servant girl could know of that she should forbid him to come in. She granted her permission and a moment later he was in the doorway, the both of them alone.

He stood unmoving for a moment, taking her in with his eyes. She fought the urge to fidget, wondering if he could somehow sense the sin radiating off of her goose-pimpled flesh.

Finally, he reached out a hand and caressed her face, fingers gentle as swan feathers against her skin. "How I hate to go, and leave you lonely," he crooned softly.

She kept her eyes downcast, even as he tilted her sharp chin upward affectionately. "That's alright- it's _only_ just one night."

It was impossible to keep the guilt out of her voice, but his childlike ears registered nothing, a happy, blank look of self-delusion written all over his features, from his bald head to his vulgar shoes.

"But know that you're here in my heart, while I'm out of your sight…"

With that overly-romantic sentiment, something he must have worked on all day to charm and flatter her, he left a brief peck on her cheek and was gone. Glad to be sitting, she hugged her knees and condemned herself, wishing there could be some other way, that she could change the way she felt. She loved Frexspar Thropp, it was true, but not in the way one ought to love the person they marry- two years, they had lived together as man and wife, but she could only bring herself to work up the affection a mother had for her son. He wasn't her soul mate, he just _wasn't._

For the past two years she had tried to be meek and mild, accepting her fate- but it wasn't in her nature. All her life, she'd defied authority- whether it was refusing to quell her appetite to appear more like a lady at dinner parties or declaring to her pompous father she didn't give a damn what he thought about her running off with the stable boy from Quadling who could barely grasp her language- the same father who'd forced her into an arranged marriage to prevent this from happening. Turtle Heart had hung himself just after the ceremony; she hadn't heard until she returned from her honeymoon.

Shaking, she rose out of her husband's office chair. She had always defied authority. She didn't want to hurt Frex but he would never know- and she couldn't bare to let her father win. Viciously, she pawed Frexspar's kiss off her cheek and hurried to the back door, where a moment later she heard the code knock.

She fell into her lover's arms, closing her eyes as she gave way to her deception and wickedness, and only one thought occurred to her as she made good on her wish to spite her father:

_If only all men were as heartless as he is…

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**A/N: Did I getcha? Did I, did I? Constructive criticism GREATLY apprechiated- the dead fic to proceed this, Dark-Eyed Beauty, was my baby, even if it never did get finished, and I want to do it justice!**


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